Undisclosed Desires
by Miss Nihilist
Summary: Your name is Dirk Strider, and coming here was a horrible mistake.


**A/N: Speaking of horrible mistakes, I see that you've chosen to read this. I wrote this for my friend's drug dealer AU, so it's probably not going to make a whole lot of sense (Basically, all of the kids are involved with drug trafficking one way or the other, except for Jake and Jade, who are cops). I don't know why I posted this. I guess my profile just needed more DirkJake smut.**

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Your name is Dirk Strider, and coming here was a horrible mistake.

It was a horrible mistake last time too, but you did it anyway. And the time before that, and the time before that. It seems that all you can do when it comes to Jake English is be at his beck and call. He tells you that he'll call you, and you wait. He tells you to be at this motel at seven, and here you are. He tells you to hand over your friends, and, well, you actually haven't done that one, but he's tried asking on multiple accounts. You're ashamed to admit that you've been so, terrifyingly tempted. The fact that handing over everyone that's dear to you seems so easy when he asks should probably worry you. It should, but it doesn't. You need him. You need _this_. He calls you up once every month, and it's sometimes all that's keeping you going. Knowing that your self little indulgence is coming up.

That doesn't make this any less disgusting to you. A few times, you've almost snapped and told Jane and Dave. They could stop you from giving into him, even if it meant tying you down to your bed or smashing your phone. Both of those things, you've been tempted to do yourself. You tried deleting his number, or changing yours, but you just couldn't. Every night with Jake is bittersweet. You work with Jane to distribute drugs, so logically, you shouldn't be meeting up with a cop at all, but he's an addiction in his own right. You don't know what to do, or if there's anything you can do at all besides give in.

You're pacing, back and forth and back and forth, with only the dimness of the motel room lamp to light your path. The window is closed tight, and the doors are locked. Not that it matters. He has a key. You need to end this- whatever it is that's going on between the two of you. It needs to stop, and you both know it. But it's just so much more selfishly satisfying to keep going.

"Dirk." His voice breaks you from your trace, and you stop pacing.

"Jake." You don't turn to look at him. You didn't even hear him come in, and why is that attractive to you? You have no idea.

The door shuts behind him, and you hear the rustling of clothes as he removes his shoes and jacket. He always does. You've known Jake for just six months, but his habits are familiar to you. He walks up from behind you, and you don't tense, flinch, or react at all as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"How's the business been doing?" He mutters. Small talk isn't his specialty, another thing that you know about him.

You snort, and shake your head. "I think you know, Jake. It must be driving your department crazy. We're growing, and you still can't find any of us."

You don't need to look at Jake to tell that he's rolling his eyes. "Not true." He frowns. "I can find you. Right here, once a month, at the same time. You're very punctual, Dirk." He tugs your shirt collar down, gently kissing along the curve of your neck. You have to fight to suppress a shiver.

"Well, that's true." You hum in agreement. "But you never take this opportunity to your advantage, do you, Jake? You could arrest me right now. You're not going to, though." You twist in his arms, turning to face him. Jake seems surprised by the action, his bottle green eyes widening just a fraction behind his glasses. "I even have some… product on me as incentive." You gesture at the chair set in the corner, where you've set your jacket. The pockets are bulging with product, and you hear Jake's breath catch in his throat. "You could arrest me right now." You repeat, gripping his chin and turning him to face you. "You're not going to, and there's only one reason why." Jake is watching you, his pupils blown wide with thinly veiled lust. He licks his lips, and you hold in a groan. You hate him so fucking much sometimes for being this attractive. You lean down, brushing your lips to his in the way that you know he hates. "You want this just as much as I do." You breath against him.

There's a pause, and you wait for a protest or a correction. You aren't surprised when none comes. He knows that you're right, and like you, he's stopped giving a damn about the consequences.

The mattress springs squeak in protest as Jake pushes you down onto it roughly. You arch against his hands, flat on your chest to keep you down, and let out a satisfied grunt when he kisses you. You bring one hand up to tangle in his hair, giving a harsh tug to make him shiver. Every one of these sessions is like a battle, and more often than not, you win. There's just something so deeply satisfying about flipping the tables on Jake at the last second, holding him down and listening to him scream your name and beg for more as you give it to him. The thought alone fuels you, and not a moment later, you've taken him by surprise and flipped positions.

Jake likes to fight you on it, but you can tell how much he enjoys being dominated. Almost as much as you enjoy dominating him. It's one of the reasons why this back and forth between the two of you works so well. You both take too much satisfaction in this to stop.

You yank his shirt over his head carelessly, and when he breathlessly complains that you're jostling his glasses, you take those off, too. "Dirk-" He gasps your name as you press a knee between his legs, marking down his neck with your teeth and tongue. "My, you're eager today- Any reason w-why?"

He's right, as annoying as it is. You normally have more patience with him. You like to put a lot more emphasis on foreplay, and the fact that you seem to be skipping that entirely isn't something that you could have even hoped for him to miss.

"Rough week." You reply, pulling back long enough to remove your shirt. You're technically not lying, just being purposely vague. You don't want to talk about it.

He must miss the hint in your tone, because Jake frowns, trying to push you back. "Well, Dirk, we can talk about it if you like." He offers. "I know that's not _exactly_ what we meet up here to do, but I'll listen if you want me to."

You sigh, and run a hand through your artificially spiked hair. "Jake." You tug his pants down, bunching them around his thighs to keep him still. "Do us both a favor and shut up."

He shuts up.

You prompt him for his handcuffs, and Jake lets you pull them from his jacket and chain his wrists to the headboard. Six months ago, he never would have let you do that, but you've established by now that you're too needy to just chain him up and leave him here. You would have him every day if you could, but you can't. There's almost something poetic about that. But then you remind yourself that this won't ever be anything but selfish. It's selfish, and you absolutely love it. You love him, almost as much as you hate him. You love everything that you hate about Jake. The push and pull is what brings you back every single time without fail, and he knows it, squirming impatiently against his bonds just because he knows that impatience is one of your biggest pet peeves. He knows every way to rile you up- every button to press to make you come undone in his hands. It's incredible.

You know that there's lube in the nightstand, but you purposely don't get it out. Instead, you pull Jake's boxers down, exposing him to the cool air and delighting in the way that makes him shiver. Every move he makes draws you in. You knew the moment you first saw him that you were going to end up here, wrapped around his finger like the obedient little boy you are. You're dominating right now, but you don't let that fool you. He's running this show, and you'll do only what he allows you to. Another thing you hate about him. Even when Jake has absolutely no leverage over you, like now, you'd still stop if he told you to. You're pathetic.

You hum softly, trailing your fingers up the curve of his cock. It makes him curl his fingers into fists, and you smirk, making eye-contact with him over the tops of your shades. "You have such a nice cock, Jake." You say. You're blunt about it, and get rewarded for the statement with the blush that rushes to his face. Dirty talk is your area of expertise. Jake doesn't know the first thing about it. One of the few things, it seems, that he doesn't do perfectly. So you take enormous delight in being able to do it when he can't.

"Oh- for God's sake, Dirk." Jake all but whines, his voice having taken on an airy quality. "Are you just going to look? I thought we were here to get physical." You hate his whining, but he's not being genuine with his complaints. Your staring is making him grow hot under the collar. He likes it, and he wants you to drag it out. Pulling apart his puzzles is what you live for, even with something as straight-forward as his sexual desires. Jake is a very open person. All you have to do is ask, and he'll tell you all the ways he wants you to step on him. You won't do any of that, because why do what he wants when teasing him is so much more fun?

"Just enjoying the view, English." You purr, letting your hand fall away. "While I'm doing that though, I do have something to tell you. So bare with me." You have his attention- in more ways than one. You entertain yourself for a minute by holding your hand above his aching cock, just out of reach. He lifts his hips - on purpose or subconsciously, you aren't sure - straining to make contact. You don't let him. You grip his thighs, pushing them far apart and getting down on your stomach between his legs. Jake whimpers in anticipation, arching his neck to try and see what you're doing. "So, um, I know that I'm usually the one who brings lube," you begin, hesitation clear in your voice, "but I ran out last time and I couldn't find the stuff I bought. I think my little bro took it to fuck his boyfriend or something. I don't know. Either way, I came up with this other way to lubricate that I thought you might enjoy."

You can easily imagine the confused look on his face, and you bite back a smirk. Before Jake can ask what you mean, you press forward, nosing at the sensitive area behind his cock. You dart your tongue out, swiping at his balls and eliciting a needy whimper from Jake before you continue further. He gasps quietly, letting out a breathy "oh" as he realizes where you're going with this. You don't give him any more time to think about what you're about to do. You just do it, plunging your tongue into his hole with one, rapid motion.

Jake cries out, tensing as he threw his head back, your name falling from his lips over and over like a broken record. You had never had this done on yourself, but based on the way Jake was rocking against your mouth, pleading for you to go deeper, you think that it's safe to assume that it feels fantastic. You don't go deeper, doing your best to ignore him completely. You told Jake that this was like a lubrication substitute, and you meant it. You lap at his walls liberally, getting him wet to help when you push in. Jake is almost sobbing when you finally pull off, squirming with need as he tries to buck his hips right back into your mouth. You smirk at the sight. God, you love breaking him down like this. You love making him _need_ you so badly.

From your pocket, you pull out a condom, and tear it open with your teeth. Neither of you have an STD, but you still insist on using a condom. It makes cleanup easier, and just helps you feel more secure with your actions. You pull your pants off, your boxers soon following as you push them both to the floor. You roll the plastic on over your straining member, and Jake groans quietly at the sight, spreading his legs just a fraction further to encourage you. "Patience, Jake." You mutter distractedly. You've kept his pants around his knees up until now, but now you pull them off all the way. You like when he wraps his legs around your waist, and it's going to bother you if he can't do that.

You gently grab his hips, rubbing little circles in his bare skin with the pads of your thumbs. He shudders, only to tense when he feels you press against him. "It's probably going to hurt." You warn him quietly. All foreplay aside, spit is not a good lube and he's relatively dry right now. You would never do this to a virgin, but you feel that it's worth mentioning here.

There's a pause, and Jake slowly nods, giving you a dry smile. "I know." He says simply. Maybe it's the way he said it, but you get the feeling that he's not talking about sex right now. It hurts in the morning- when you both wake up back in the real world and have to tear yourself away from each other. It hurts every single fucking time, and every single time, you tell yourself that it's the last time. You won't come back, and it won't hurt again. Every single time, you are lying to yourself.

But you can dwell on that every second that you're alive tomorrow.

For now, you focus on the moment and slowly push your way in. Jake knows better than to tense up, but you still see his expression twist in pain as you enter with relatively no help. You wait for him to tell you that it's too much, but he doesn't. You can tell that he's considering it, but it must not hurt too badly, because once you're all the way in, Jake seems pretty okay with it. You kiss him, a boring, simple press of lips together just to give him something else to feel. It's not noteworthy by any stretch of the imagination, and after a minute of this, he pulls out of it. "You can go." Jake whispers. His choice in wording is odd, because his tone sounds like he'd give anything for you to _stay_.

You swallow thickly, and do your best to ignore the thought. Luckily, movement is just what you need to do that. Jake groans quietly as you pull back, and he squeezes tight around you in a way that sends shivers down your spine. Your grip on him tightens. It's still light for the time being, but there are going to be hand-shaped bruises on his hips when he leaves here tomorrow. It's a constant of your encounters with Jake.

You love and hate the actual act of having sex with Jake, for a few reasons. You love it because the experience is always mind-blowing. His moans, and the way he can't seem to decide if he should be screaming your name or begging for more. How perfect he feels around you, urging you deeper and faster and harder like it's not enough and too much at the same time. You hate it because it's always a haze. You lose the details, until it's just you and Jake, joined together and making the most fundamentally _right_ mistake you've ever made in your life. It's the most primal form of human companionship, and you can't help but find that terribly ironic. You want so much more complex things from Jake. Someone as layered as he is surely deserves that. But instead, what you get is the most basic thing you can get from another person, once a month.

You would laugh at the thought, but you're too busy wrapping your arms around him, holding Jake pressed against you as you cry out and push in as deep as you can, releasing inside of him. Technically, inside of the condom, but you like thinking that it's really Jake. Maybe someday you'll do this without protection. Not likely- unless it's to celebrate marriage. The thought sends a shot of pain through your heart, and you have to very quickly squash it. No. You're not a hopeful idiot. You can never marry - or even properly date - Jake, and he knows it. It's probably why he holds you close even long after you've both finished, his arms around your waist and your head on his chest as you both try to find your breath. You love the aftermath of sex with him. Jake always makes you feel so... safe.

"Dirk." He says your name hesitantly, like he's afraid this illusion will shatter if he's any louder.

"Jake." You don't look over at him. Instead, you close your eyes. You would turn off the lights, but that requires getting up and acknowledging the existence of things beyond this bed. You don't want to ruin this any more than he does.

He doesn't speak immediately, and you're patient about it. Jake often needs time to collect his thoughts, and you don't mind. Yours are usually deafening. "You're still not going to quit such an awful business, are you?"

You smile, and laugh bitterly. "You're not going to quit being a cop, are you?"

"No." His answer is immediate. You knew it would be.

In reply, you hum quietly. "Jake." You look over at him, and he meets your gaze steadily. "I love you."

If you had to place any emotion on his smile at those words, you think that it would have to be "fond" and "sorrowful" but those words don't quite work. Jake looks absolutely heartbroken as he reaches over and cups your cheek. "I know." He sighs, blinking back tears. You chuckle, and close your eyes, the exhaustion from the day finally wearing down on you. In your sleepy haze, you aren't sure if you imagined it or not, but you think that you hear Jake mutter _"I love you, too"_ in your ear before the world fades to black and you're gone.

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 **A/N: In other news: I can't write smut. Or angst. Whoops.**


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